Husband for a Weekend

Looking back down at his computer, Stuart mumbled, “He’s saying you’re probably supporting the guy while he plays around at being a ‘landscape designer.’”

Kim gasped in response to Stuart’s cynical translation. Before she could make an indignant response, Julian spoke again. “I figured something had to be keeping him around. You make pretty decent money as an occupational therapist, don’t you?”

Kim had to clamp down on her tongue with her teeth to stop herself from saying things that were entirely inappropriate for her daughter’s tender ears. She reminded herself that twenty-four-year-old Julian had recently been through an ugly divorce and was probably still bitter about it. Following their mother’s repeated examples, he’d rushed into an impetuous, infatuation-based marriage, and it had been no surprise to anyone when the union ended in flames. Grandma Dyess had not offered her ring to the couple.

Still, Julian’s resentment and disillusion was no excuse for him to attack her—and especially not Tate, who’d done nothing at all to deserve this level of cynicism.

She made herself speak with icy dignity. “I work because I love my job, and I’m good at it. As for Tate, he has a degree in urban horticulture and landscape design, and the business he and his partner established in Little Rock is doing very well. They’re in growing demand, and they’ve already made quite a reputation for themselves in both residential and commercial circles. I’m very proud of what they have accomplished in a relatively short time.”

“Why, thanks, honey. I’m proud of you, too.”

Hearing Tate’s amused drawl from behind her, Kim looked around with a strained smile. She hadn’t intended for him to overhear, of course, but she had spoken quite honestly. She was impressed with how hard Tate and Evan had worked to establish their business, and with the success they had enjoyed thus far.

“We’ve brought in everything from the trunk,” he said. “Is there anything else in the car I should grab?”

“No, that’s all, thanks.”

Daryn was beginning to fuss and chew her fist, which made a perfect excuse to escape for a while. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to feed Daryn. Tate, would you mind bringing her bag for me?”

She nodded toward the large, flowered bag sitting on the floor beside the diaper bag. She was capable of carrying both bags and her daughter, but she didn’t want to leave Tate alone to her family’s mercies.

“Of course.”

“Do you need help?” Betsy made the offer rather vaguely, and Kim wasn’t surprised that her mother didn’t argue when assured that her assistance was not required.

The cheery, yellow-and-white kitchen sat at the back of the house, with a big window over the sink overlooking a nice-size backyard planted with more colorful flowers and an inviting patio designed for entertaining. Kim took in the details at a glance, then turned to Tate, who stood behind her, smiling sympathetically.

“Deep breath,” he advised.

She filled her lungs and let the air out slowly, but the exercise did little to relieve her irritation.

“I was thinking my brothers deserved to be told the truth,” she said in a low voice. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Judgmental brats.”

“You looked annoyed when I came in. I heard you defending my business to them. I appreciate what you said, but you know you really don’t have to leap to my defense with your brothers. I’m pretty good at standing up for myself.”

“I know. It still made me mad.” Balancing Daryn on her left hip, she warmed baby food in the microwave and filled a sippy cup with cold milk. Daryn was already reaching eagerly for the cup when Kim sat at the table with the baby on her knee. “They had no excuse for being so snotty about you when you were perfectly nice to them.”

Sitting across the table, Tate shrugged as he watched her spoon strained peas into Daryn’s open mouth. “No big deal, they don’t know me. She puts that away pretty well, doesn’t she?”

Kim wiped a smear of green from her daughter’s chin with a paper towel. “She loves her veggies. And by the way, she is a very healthy weight.”

She didn’t know why she was letting her mother’s little digs get to her. It didn’t bother her so badly when they were aimed at her, but she found herself getting very defensive about her daughter. She would have to work on that.

Tate smiled at her in a way that made her suspect he knew exactly what she was thinking. “She looks perfect to me.”

For only a moment, she was caught up in his warm amber gaze, her hand frozen with the spoon of peas halfway to her daughter’s mouth. Daryn made a sound of impatience and Kim jerked her attention back to the task at hand, chiding herself for getting distracted by Tate’s pretty eyes. This was no time to allow her thoughts to drift into that territory—not that there was ever a proper time for that, she reminded herself sharply.

Her mother swept into the kitchen on a faint cloud of floral perfume. “Honestly, Kim, couldn’t you have offered Tate a cold drink? What can I get for you, Tate?”

He shook his head, the faintest of creases between his brows as if he were holding back a frown. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You’re sure? I have fresh-squeezed lemonade in the fridge.”

“Maybe I’ll have some later.”

Her hostess duties out of the way, Betsy turned again to Kim. “I should have thought to get a high chair. It would be much easier for you to feed her if you didn’t have to hold her in your lap. I’ll send Bob to buy one right now.”

“That’s not necessary, Mom. This is fine. Besides, we’re only going to be here one night.”